


Not the Reunion We Wanted

by DreamingisBelieving



Category: Glee
Genre: AnderBros, Blam, Cutting, Depressed Blaine, Depression, F/F, F/M, Finchel - Freeform, Friendly!Blam, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Klaine, M/M, References to Depression, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Harm!Blaine, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal!Klaine, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Tike - Freeform, mental health, quick, samcedes - Freeform, suicidal!blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 20:38:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13326057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingisBelieving/pseuds/DreamingisBelieving
Summary: "Why are you here?" It's the first thing out of Blaine's mouth as he gets out from the car, Kurt not far behind him.When you get home from the hospital, bandages on both of your wrists, the last thing you want is for all of your high school friends to be on your front porch.





	Not the Reunion We Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> I watched a movie called "About Alex" a few weeks ago, and this is lightly based on that. I like the idea and I wanted to write something for it. I personally like this one, because it has a message that goes with it and I hope it helps at least one person to realize that. So, enjoy this, and if you want more mental health stuff, let me know. I have a ton of ideas floating in my head! Thank you and enjoy!
> 
> WARNINGS: SUICIDE ATTEMPT, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND ACTIONS, MENTIONS OF CUTTING AND SELF-HARM AND TALK AND DESCRIPTIONS OF DEPRESSION AND SELF LOATHING.

"Why are you here?" It's the first thing out of Blaine's mouth as he gets out from the car, Kurt not far behind him.

When you get home from the hospital, bandages on both of your wrists, the last thing you want is for all of your high school friends to be on your front porch.

Not only were Rachel and Finn there, but so were Santana, Brittany, Tina, Mike, Sam, Mercedes, Quinn, and even Puckerman were standing there awkwardly, watching the couple get out of the car, Blaine wearing an oversized sweater, to be sure it covered his wrists, and both of them looking like they haven't slept in days, which really, they haven't.

"I told you not to call anyone, Rachel," Kurt huffs, his brows furrowed together with annoyance.

"I know, but-" She starts to defend herself, but Blaine's already talking.

"You told her?" He accuses his husband of ten years, his arms now crossed tight over his chest, it wasn't unlike him to get angry. He's been off for a while now.

"No, I didn't tell her," Kurt says, putting a shaking hand to his forehead. He was exhausted. "She-she was-uh-she was there, when I-when I found you," Kurt replies, his voice going soft and trailing off at the end. Blaine goes stiff.

"Blaine, look, we're-" Sam starts, but Blaine just brushes past everyone crowding their porch and goes through the front door, ignoring what his best friend was about to say.

"Blaine, wait!" Kurt calls, jogging over and getting through their friends, who were just standing there star struck. Blaine was never like this in high school.

By the time he gets into the house, Blaine is already starting up the stairs.

"Blaine, stop!" Kurt hurries over, grabbing at his shoulder, careful not to jostle him too much.

"I just want to take a shower," Blaine breathes, spinning to look at his husband.

"I haven't-uh-I haven't been home since....and it's not cleaned up yet," Kurt replies. Blaine's shoulders deflate instantly. "I'm sorry," Kurt shakes his head, putting his shaking hands over his face.

"It's fine. It's not like it's your duty to clean up after me. I'll go do-"

"No!" Kurt practically shouts, quickly regretting. Blaine spins around again, to look at him, Kurt hands covered by his face and taking deep breaths. By now, everyone was in the house, but standing around awkwardly. "Come on, I'll get it tonight. Just-" He pauses, taking in a long breath to calm himself down. He was stressed and he couldn't think very clearly. "Let me make you some tea," He says, taking Blaine's hand in his own, careful not to touch his wrists. The other man nods gently, seeing how flustered his husband was, and follows him into the dining room and conjoined kitchen.

"Anyone else want a cup?" Kurt asks, knowing there was no way they were getting rid of them for at least the weekend. A few of them nod, but all of them file into the dining room, sitting at the table while Kurt put the kettle on.

Blaine sits at the table, one leg brought up to his chest, his heel on the chair, and picking restlessly at his finger nails. No one was saying anything, some were watching Blaine, but for the most part, everyone was just watching their own hands.

How to handle your friend trying to kill themselves, was not taught at school, because no one knew how to handle it. It was something they never thought they would have to deal with, especially with Blaine.

"How's Chicago?" Blaine asks Sam and Mercedes, looking up at the couple. The pair exchange a look before answering.

"Good, fast pace, but  good," Sam says, nodding his head awkwardly, still refusing to look at his best friend in the eye. It seemed like his eyes were fixed on his wrists, even if you couldn't see the bandages. The curly haired man sets his hands in his lap, not trying to make anyone uncomfortable. He was trying to hide them, but everyone knew what he had done, or at least tried to do. Everyone knew what lay under those bandaged wrists, four long, vertical cuts, that took over sixty stitches to fix up. Two on each arm.

"Good, good," Blaine clears his throat out, looking down at his bitten and ripped finger nails, a nervous habit he's had since he was in middle school.

"How-How are you, Blaine?" Quinn asks, her voice strained. She was nervously playing with her sweating hands, and Puck had to eventually put a hand over both of hers to get her to calm down. Blaine doesn't look up. An answer spills out instantly.

"Fine." It was well rehearsed, and he's said it a thousand times in the past few months, because it was easier than explaining how he truly felt. Everyone knew his answer was a lie, but Quinn nods slowly, discreetly wiping at her cheeks.

Blaine found it a little humorous. No one cared in high school. When he got slushied or picked on his senior year, no one cared. Especially Quinn, she was nowhere to be found when he was getting slushies daily his junior year. She was just laughing from the background, but now that he tried to kill himself, things are different, right?

It was so tense, that almost everyone jumped when the kettle starts to scream. Kurt grabs a few mugs down, taking the kettle off of the stove top.

Blaine watches his husband fill the cups with both the hot water and tea bags, taking them out to the group on a silver tray. He slides the tray onto the table and everyone grabs a cup, even Puck and Finn, who had never drunken tea in the lives. Kurt hands Blaine his, putting it in front of him with a quick kiss to the top of his unruly curls. He sits beside his husband, putting a comforting hand on his knee, which Blaine just ignored, even when he was squeezing gently.

"Tina, can you pass me the sugar?" Blaine croaks. Tina nods quickly, grabbing the small shaker of sugar from the end of the table, going to hand it to him. Blaine meets her half way, stretching his arm out to reach it without thinking. As expected, his sleeve rolled up, revealing a large, white, pristine bandage covering his right wrist, with a light shade of red in the middle.

Tina audibly gasps, her eyes going wide, and Sam smacks a hand over his mouth, to stifle a sob. Blaine doesn't grab the sugar though. Instead, he looks across to everyone's shocked faces and shoots up from his chair, it nearly falling down as he did, and hurrying towards the stairs, mumbling an apology.

"Blaine!" Kurt screeches, running after him, just catching him up the steps. "Stop!"

"Kurt, I think I can handle my own blood covering the goddamn bathroom. I am the one that put it there!" Blaine yells, spinning on his heels to look at his husband, who was still at the bottom of the steps.

"I don't want to leave you alone yet," Kurt says softly.

"Why? I can handle myself. I can fix myself! I don't need you to babysit me!" Blaine yells.

"You clearly do, Blaine!" Kurt shouts, motioning towards his covered wrists.

"I've been doing this for thirty-five fucking years! I think I can take a shower and clean the bathroom by myself! Why do you care anyway?!"

"Because I fucking love you, you idiot! You're my husband!" Kurt yells, making Blaine's face start to go soft. Kurt never yelled. Ever. "How do you think I felt when I came home from work, to see you lying on the floor, covered in your own blood? Huh? How do you think I felt, when I was waiting in that goddamn hospital waiting room, my husband's blood covering my clothes, but refusing to move my ass from that chair, because I didn't want to miss a thing?" He yells, using his hands as he argued. Blaine doesn't say anything, but his shoulders go flat. "It didn't feel good to think that you were dying, holding you in my arms while you bled out on out bathroom floor, waiting for an ambulance to come and get you," Kurt chokes out, starting to get caught on his sobs. "It felt like I was dying with you! Jesus, Blaine!"

"I wasn't th-"

"You weren't thinking, I know, because you never do!" Kurt cries, crossing his arms over his chest. He shakes his head, trying to stop his tears, but he couldn't. Blaine takes a few steps forward, engulfing his husband in for a hug, holding him close to his chest. "I love you. I love you. I fucking love you," Kurt sobs, hiding his face in his sweater, his head resting on his chest and his arms wound tight around his waist. With Blaine being a couple of steps up, he had a few inches on him for once, just holding his husband, with his cheek resting on the top of his hair.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Kurt," Blaine says, petting down his hair carefully and letting his lips linger over the auburn color. Kurt just sobs, for once in four days, letting someone hold him, instead of the other way around. The auburn haired man grips at his husband, trying to get him as close as possible.

"I love you so much," He whimpers, staining Blaine's sweater with his tears.

"Shh," Blaine tries, cupping the back of his head in his palm and running his thumb across the back of his head and starting to rock them from side to side. "I love you too," He chokes out. Blaine looks up to see their friends crowded around the doorway, watching the pair. Blaine rolls his eyes and pulls back from Kurt, cupping his face in his hands. Kurt puts his hands over Blaine's wrists, not gripping, but just letting them sit there. He turns his head, pressing a soft kiss to his left one, nuzzling into his touch. Kurt starts to sniffle, trying to get rid of his tears, but his face was obviously red and swollen from crying.

Just when Blaine leans in for a kiss, someone is knocking on their door, and rather rapidly, frantically even. Blaine hangs his head and Kurt breaks apart from his husband to go get the door.

Everyone watches as he opens up the door, revealing the one and only, Cooper Anderson, looking like he hadn't slept in weeks, even if the incident only happened four days ago.

"Cooper-" Kurt starts, deflating at the sight.

"Where is he? Where's my brother? Is he at the hospital? Is he okay? Is he even alive? Kurt say something, do-"

"Stop talking," Kurt interrupts, putting a hand in front of him, to get him to stop. Cooper deflates, looking anxiously through the doorway, until he made eye contact with his little brother, arms tugging at his sleeves, and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Squirt," He breathes, going past Kurt, allowing him to shut the door, and rushing right towards his said brother, practically tackling him down wih the force of his hug. It takes a few seconds before Blaine can relax and hug back, holding his brother while he cried. "I thought I lost you, Blainey. Oh God," He sobs, Blaine holding him.

"I'm okay. I'm right here," Blaine assures him, barely any emotion in his voice.

Another funny thing. Blaine hasn't seen or even really talked to his brother in almost four years, but somehow, the news got back to him, and here he was, hugging him like they were best friends. It's almost another full two minutes before Cooper pulls back.

"You good?" Blaine asks, studying his brother's face. Cooper scoffs, but nods his head. "Uh, I don't know how many spots we have left, but if you can find somewhere, feel free to stay the weekend," Blaine says, clearing out his throat, and stuffing his hands in his pockets of his sweatpants. Cooper nods slowly.

"I'm going to go upstairs," Blaine announces, spinning on his heels, and heading up the stairs.

"I'll go with you. Clean up the bathroom," Kurt breathes, sucking in a deep breath.

"Kurt, it’s fine. I'll get it when I-"

"Stop, please," Kurt says, moving over to him and putting a hand on his chest, getting him to stop talking.

"Do you need my help?" Finn asks, scrunching his brows together.

"No, it's fine. I'll get it. I can-" Kurt starts, as Blaine started up the stairs, one at a time.

"I'll help too," Rachel says, looking between both her husband and her best friend.

"Okay," Kurt says. "Uh, there's more tea in the kitchen. You guys have been here before. Remotes are beside the TV. I'll be back," He says, looking across to everyone before going up the stairs, after his husband and Rachel and Finn following him.

By the time they get upstairs, Blaine is sitting in the study, leaning over his desk, which Kurt usually used to designing, and just looking around the room, tears in his eyes. Kurt lets him be and starts for their shared bedroom.

The closer he gets, the slower his steps get. He remembers what the room looked like, and it was something out of horror movie. He wished that his head just made it worse than what it actually was, but as he pushed open the door to the ensuite bathroom, his hopes were pointless.

It looked just the way he remembered. The bathtub was no longer filled with water, but blood remained in the bottom and there was a large stain of red against the tile wall of their tub. The white of the floor tile made the stained blood stick out, where it was stained against the outside tub wall and the floor. The bath mat was no longer a beige, but a dark red, almost the entire thing drenched.

When Kurt had pulled his husband from the bathtub, he had fell back against the other wall, and sat there, applying pressure to two towels, that were still lying on the floor, and sat against the wall, where now a large puddle of the stained blood was, making a circle around where their bodies sat.

The full length mirror, that was also their closet, had blood streak across from it, with Blaine's blood, but from Kurt. The room was a mess. Kurt covers a hand over his mouth, swallowing the lump in his throat as he opened the bathroom closet, ignoring the blood and grabbed a bucket, towels, and cleaner. Finn took a couple of towels and cleaner and started on the tub, while Rachel grabbed some cleaner and started on the mirror. Kurt started filling the bucket with water at the sink, wiping at his cheeks with shaking hands. He could handle this.

He ignores everything on the counter, deciding to deal with it later and instead getting on his knees, to starts scrubbing the floor. This wasn't going to come out with a mop. It needed to be scrubbed.

They work in silence, no one saying anything, just the sound of brushes and towels against the surfaces, and the spray of cleaner.

As he's working through the stains, he's fighting off tears, trying to ignore them. Memories wash over him like tsunami. He remembers entering the bedroom with a smile. He had gotten off work a few hours earlier and Rachel had come home with him.

He remembers removing his coat and setting it on the bed while he called for his husband, but never for an answer. He heard the shower running, so figured he was doing just that, but when he went to his closet, talking about how he and Rachel were going out for dinner, he realized steam wasn't coming from under the door. The water was cold.

He went to open the door, but it was locked, so he knocked and called for him, but didn't get answer. He kept yelling his name, but didn't get an answer. Ever. So, he had to shoulder the door in, yelling for Rachel. When he opened the door, he saw that Blaine's arm was hanging from outside the bathtub curtain, blood pouring from his wrist. His eyes went wide as he screamed for his friend. He switched off the shower head and pulled the curtain back.

Dressed in a pair of jeans and a white shirt, now turned red, was his husband, lying under the spray of the cold shower, two long, vertical cuts across his forearms and wrists, and a razor blade in his lap. Kurt screamed and ripped his husband from the tub, pulling him into his arms, just was Rachel was coming into the bathroom.

He yelled for her to call an ambulance and reached for their bath towels, hung up around the back the door, pressing them to his husband's wrists.

He remembers screaming for his husband to wake up, patting his face, realizing it wasn't working, then just holding him closely and sobbing, petting his hair down and begging him not to leave and that he was so sorry.

Kurt drops the towel he was using, and covers his mouth with his hand, even if it was a little bloody from cleaning up his husband's blood. He lets out a loud sob.

"Oh God," he cries. Rachel and Finn look up and exchange a look before Rachel drops her bottle of cleaner and pulled her friend into her arms. Kurt grips at her arm, sobbing heavily. "He tried to kill himself," He sobs, his cheeks staining with his tears again.

"Shh, it's okay," Rachel comforts.

"No it's not. He tried to kill himself. Oh my God," He sobs, not caring that his head was getting messed up. He had better things to worry about. He kept repeating the same phrase over, letting his best friend hold him and at least try to comfort him, but there was no comforting him.

"He's fine, Kurt. He's alive. He's just in the other room and you can protect him now. It's okay," Rachel tries again. Kurt opens his mouth to say something, but a loud crash coming from down the hall makes his head snap up. He exchanges a look with his friend before scrambling to his feet, as does Rachel and the three of them run out from the bathroom and to the source of the noise.

"You show up here because you feel guilty! Not because you give two fucks about me!" He hears Blaine yell from the study.

"Blaine!" Kurt shouts for his husband, running on shaking legs.

"I didn't see you calling me either! Begging to come see me!" He hears Cooper yell back.

"You're so ignorant sometimes, Cooper! Where were you when I needed you? I sent you texts every year on Christmas, Easter, your birthday! I never missed one and you never thought to send a word back to me, to let me know you were even alive!"

Kurt skids to a halt in the doorway of the study, everything from the desk had been cleared, which was the cause of the crash.

"Guys! Stop it!" Kurt yells, watching to two exchange looks that could kill.

"I felt bad, okay? Sorry I wasn't the best brother!" Cooper screeches.

"Stop! Stop playing the goddamn victim and take responsibility!"

"Playing victim!? You slit your wrists and took a bottle of pills, Blaine! How's that for attention seeking and playing victim!?" Blaine quickly deflate, scrunching his brows, almost with disgust. "It worked! You got me and all your Glee club friends back here. You have Kurt here, worrying about you like you're some two year old boy!"

Kurt's eyes go wide and so do Blaine's.

"I didn't ask for them to be. Frankly, I don't remember asking you either," Blaine says calmly, before brushing past his husband and entering their bedroom, slamming the door behind.

"I think you should leave," Kurt says, not even giving the other Anderson a chance to speak, because he was quickly running towards the bedroom. When he went to open the door, it was locked. His heart sank.

"Blaine! Blaine, please! Open the door, baby," Kurt says, pounding the door with an open palm. He doesn't get a response. "Blaine, please! Say something, let me in, please!" By now, Finn, Sam and Puck were behind him, hearing the commotion from downstairs.

"No," Is his response. It's short and soft. Kurt's shoulders relax as he sinks down to the floor.

"Are you in front of the door?" Kurt asks, looking up to the boys and shaking his head, letting them know they could leave, but they didn't, they just moved to the end of the hallway.

"Yeah," He hears his husband choke out. Kurt deflates, moving so he's sitting with his forehead against the door and Indian style.

"Baby, talk to me," Kurt says, his fingernails running across the wood. He doesn't get a response. "Tell me how you're feeling?"

"What are you, my therapist?" Blaine bites.

"I can be," Kurt says.

"Can you please just go away?" Blaine says, tears crowding his voice.

"No, I can't do that. I can't leave you alone. For better or for worse, and this is worse, so I'm staying," Kurt replies, tears rushing down his cheeks. He knows he has an audience, but that's the least of his concerns at the moment. "Please, talk to me, Baby,"

"I don't want to talk," Blaine replies, his voice just above a whisper.

"Okay, we can sit here, but you have to promise me you won't move from that spot," Kurt says, his hands shaking with fear. He doesn't know where half of this is coming from, it's just coming out. It takes a while for Blaine to respond, but eventually he gets a soft, barely audible.

"Okay,"

"Good," Kurt says back, before turning around, so his back is against the door, still sitting Indian style and waiting for Blaine to say something. He looks up to his friends. They all looked terrified.

Brittany was being held onto by Santana, both shaking with fear. Tina was full on crying in Mike's arms, and Mike was just petting her hair down. Rachel was under Finn's arm, watching with worry for her friends.

Kurt shuts his eyes, leaning his head back against the door. They stood there for ten minutes before Blaine says something.

"Kurt?"

"Yes, Baby?"

"I'm bleeding," The two words, making Kurt spin around instantly, looking like he was going to throw up. Sam, Puck, and Finn all step up again, in case the door needed to be broken into, as Kurt got to his feet, trying the door knob. He hears one of the girls gasp, but he doesn't care.

"Blaine, please, open the door. Let me in and we'll get you cleaned and fixed up.

"I don't want to," That's his response and it makes Kurt have to choke back a sob, but he sucks in a deep breath.

"Honey, please let me in. If you don't, we're just going to break the door down. Please, let us help you," When Blaine doesn't say anything, he panics, thinking he lost consciousness, or was bleeding out again, but before he knew it, the door was being opened to reveal an upset look Blaine, with his right wrist, held to his chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," Blaine says, and Kurt relaxes, seeing he wasn't covered in blood. Like last time.

"Let me see, Baby," Kurt sniffles, holding out his hand. Blaine reluctantly holds out his arm, showing one of cuts was bleeding again, not bad, nothing to worry about. His bandage was off though, showing off the other one that was still as deep as he remembers, as was the other one. Kurt lets out a relieved sob, and leans over, pressing a soft and protective kiss to his forehead, before taking his hand.

"Okay, come on. We'll get you cleaned up," Kurt gives him a small, reassuring smile and Blaine nods. "Let's go downstairs. Ours isn't finished yet," Kurt says, and again, Blaine nods, letting his husband lead him downstairs to the bathroom.

Blaine sits himself down on the counter, and Kurt grabs an alcohol pad and a new gauze roll. He dabs a cotton ball with some alcohol and dabs at the wound. He expected Blaine to hiss and pull back, but if anything he relaxes under the usually stinging pain. Kurt brushes it off, not wanting to look too much into it.

"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean it. I was just picking at it. I didn't even notice I was doing it," Blaine whimpers, clearing out his throat as Kurt wrapped his arm back up in a clean bandage.

"It's okay," Kurt replies, his eyes swollen from crying like he was. He was so scared when he opened that door. He thought that he would open it and that Blaine would be covered in blood, just like last time, but he wasn't. He's okay, right in front of him.

The counter tenor tears off the last of the bandage needed and throws the extra back in the drawer. He sighs heavily, moving so he's standing between his husband's legs, resting his hands on his hips. Blaine instinctively moves his hands so their at Kurt's sides, their foreheads resting against each other's.

"I'm glad you're okay. So glad," Kurt breathes, his face serious as he searches Blaine's eyes, for something, but for once, he finds nothing. Nothing at all. Not regret, not happiness, not sadness, or anger, nothing. There's nothing. Blaine just nods, taking in a breath, before leaning in to press his lips to his husband's.

"Okay," Blaine says softly after they break apart, but just long enough so Kurt can wrap him in a hug, rubbing his back in a consoling way.

"Hey," The sound of a soft voice and a knock on the doorframe made them both look up, seeing Sam Evans standing in the doorway. "Um, is everything okay in here?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Blaine says a little bit too quickly. Kurt looks between the two of them. Sam was standing awkwardly in the doorway, not really knowing where to look, and Blaine found sudden interest in his hands.

"Did you guys wanna talk?" Kurt asks, sniffling back his tears and wiping at them gingerly. Sam clears his throat, still not looking at his best friend.

"Uh, yeah. Can I?" He asks softly. Kurt looks to Blaine.

"Blaine's not a child. You can ask him," Kurt replies sticking his hands in his back pockets. Blaine nods slowly.

"Yeah, that's cool," He shrugs casually, still looking down at his hands. Kurt puts a hand on his knee, squeezing carefully to show his support before leaving the bathroom. Sam steps in slowly, his hands stuck deep in his pockets, still not looking at Blaine and instead looking at the floor. Blaine looks up at his friend, his brow furrowed.

"What did you want to say?" Blaine asks. Sam sighs heavily.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," he shrugs, refusing to look at Blaine still, and instead at the floor.

"Why?" Blaine shifts, studying the way Sam was so uncomfortable talking to him. He's never been like this. Even when he first transferred to McKinley.

"I thought-"

"Sam, would you look at me?" Blaine scoffs, shaking his head.

"What do you mean?" Sam clears his throat out, looking up at the ceiling.

"You won't look at my face. I'm literally the same guy I was last week when we were talking about Star Wars, man," Blaine replies, his brows furrowed. Sam swallows, finally looking at the man.

"I'm sorry," He shrugs helplessly. "I don't know how to act. I feel like I don't know you anymore," He says, shaking his head. Blaine licks his lips, looking down at his hands.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Sam," Blaine croaks.

"I should have been there for you, instead of being a bad friend. I should have realized something was wrong. I should have-"

"Kurt didn't realize anything was wrong either. So, don't be too hard on yourself. Kurt knows me better than anyone and he didn't pick up on it, because i didn't want him to. I didn't want anyone to. So, calm down. You have no reason to apologize," Blaine assures him, making eye contact with Sam for the first time in over a week. The blonde’s shoulders visibly deflate and before Blaine could react, he was being attacked with a big bear hug for the man. "Oh, okay," he chuckles, wrapping his arms around the model and holding him tight.

"I'm so happy that you're okay, Blaine."

"I hear that a lot."

"Then take it to heart," Sam says, finally pulling back, his hand still remaining on his shoulder. Blaine nods slowly, looking back down at his hands.

"Blaine, do you wanna take a shower?" Kurt's soft voice was coming through the doorway, a small smile on his face.

"Yeah, but don't worry about the bathroom," Blaine replies.

"It's done if you want to take one," Kurt says. "The group cleaned it," He adds. Blaine nods slowly, looking back down at his hands.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Do you-uh-do you want to-" Blaine stops getting caught on his words.

"Of course," Kurt replies, coming holding his hand out for his husband. Blaine hops off the counter, slipping his hand through his, letting him lead him to the now cleaned bathroom. Between the ten of them, Blaine's sure it's clean by now. It's not like the bathroom was huge anyway.

Blaine walks past their group of friends on his way up the staircase, smiling gently. Kurt leads him all the way to their attached bathroom, the only sign of an attempted suicide being the memories the room bring. They did an amazing job cleaning. Kurt didn't think the red would every come out from the tile, but it did.

"Wow," Blaine breathes, letting out a deep breath. Kurt nods his head, going to switch on the shower head, letting it get hot. Blaine removes his shirt, tossing it into the hamper, along with his sweatpants and boxers. Kurt does the same and gets in, adjusting the temperature so it didn't burn their skin. Blaine's not far behind him, trying to forget the reason there's a different shower curtain up. The white one being replace with a dark blue they had from their old apartment.

His husband is facing away from Blaine when climbs in and Blaine can't help but wrap his arms around his waist, pulling him tight to his chest, his cheek resting against his shoulder blade. Kurt gasps with shock, but eventually puts his hands over Blaine's, the warm spray covering the both of them, wetting their hair and making it stick to their foreheads.

"I love you so much," Blaine whispers, kissing his pale shoulder. Kurt smacks his hand over his mouth, stifling a sob.

"I love you too, B," Kurt manages, bringing his hand down so he can rub it across his bandages, that were supposed to be fine after a shower, they just had to change them to make sure.

"I'm so sorry, Baby," Blaine cries, his tears mixing with the shower spray. Kurt shakes his head, unable to form any more words. He just brings Blaine's hand to his lips, kissing the skin softly. Blaine lifts his hands away from his husband, as Kurt grabs the shampoo, squirting a little on his hands. He turns around slowly, rubbing it between his hands before scrambling it into Blaine's hair. Blaine smiles a little bit, his hands resting Kurt's naked and slender hips as he washes his husband.

"I was so scared that this would never happen again," Kurt admits softly, shaking his head at the thought. Blaine opens his eyes to look at his pained face, his lips quivering with unshed tears. Guilt settles into the bottom of his stomach, even as Kurt moves so he can rinse Blaine's hair out. "I don't know what I would do, B," Kurt shrugs, pushing Blaine's wet curls so it lays flat over his head. "I don't think I'd be far after you. You're my life."

"Don't say that,"

"What? That you're my life?"

"No, about being far after me. I can't stand the thought of you doing that to yourself," Blaine says quietly, now realizing how Kurt felt. The thought of Kurt doing what he did and succeeding tears at his heart, ripping it into a million pieces.

"How do you think I felt?" Kurt swallows, cupping Blaine's cheeks. Blaine looks down at their feet, watching the way the water fell between them.

"I'm sorry," He croaks. Kurt shakes his head again, wrapping him in for another tight hug. Blaine holds him tightly, his head resting on his shoulder as the water passes between them and over them.

"I'm so happy you didn't succeed. I'm so happy that Rachel and I came back from work early," Kurt whispers, placing soft kiss into his neck and cheek. Blaine doesn't say anything. He just grips tightly at the man, ignoring the pain in his wrists as he does so.

 

It's two AM when Kurt gives up on trying to fall asleep that night. It's three AM when he hears footsteps come from their doorway, and it's one past three AM when he feel his husband's arms wrap around him, joining him on the staircase, a couple of steps above him, his chin resting on his shoulder, and Kurt rubs his arms carefully, just allowing himself to be held by his husband.

It's three thirty eight when Blaine speaks up, breaking their long thinking session.

"What are you doing out here?" He whispers, his lips pressed against the skin of his husband's neck. Kurt shrugs.

"I couldn't sleep. I have too much on my mind," He says softly, still looking forward, with tears making his voice thick and heavy. His eyes were wide as they looked down the stairs. He feels Blaine nod slowly, his grip tightening around his shoulders, his arms wrapping around his husband's chest. Kurt continued to mindlessly rub Blaine's arms. Blaine enjoyed the way his cold wedding band hit his skin, reminding him, that even after everything that's happened this past week, he was still wearing it, and would always wear it.

Kurt turns his head, pressing a soft kiss to his forearm, ignoring the white bandage for a moment.

Their friends were sleeping on the couch, on air mattresses, in their guest bedroom, and everywhere else they could squeeze themselves. Cooper had even stayed, after apologizing a million times to his brother and crying in his arms like a baby.

Kurt liked it a little bit, having them around, but Blaine felt suffocated. He's happy to know they care, but he's embarrassed to have them know everything. Have them know what he did. They'll never look at him the same and they'll never treat him the same, at least not any time soon. He hated knowing that.

"Why?" Kurt chokes out, tears rushing down his cheeks at this point, both of them looking forward. "Why'd you do it, Blaine?" His tone wasn't accusing, just curious. "Ever since I saw you lying in that hospital bed, those straps on your wrists, I wanted to know. I wanted to know why you slit your wrists and why you took a bottle of pain killers. Is it me? Is it because of me?"

"No," Blaine's never answered a question so quickly. "You're the one that made me last this long," He admits, his voice just above a whisper, practically speaking directly into his ear. Kurt nods.

"Then why? Is it work? Did something happen with your parents? I just don't understand," he scoffs. "I'm trying hard to understand, but I can't. I just can't do it, B."

"I don't know either," Blaine says, tears now dripping from his eyes. Kurt scrunches his brows together, his answer just confusing him even more. "I just-I've hated myself ever since I was a little boy. I remember thinking I was gay, and just wanting to give up. I tried so hard to be straight, but I couldn't. That's when it started. When I came out, things got so much worse. My dad won't even talk to me anymore. He kicked me out right there. Told me to leave and my mom just sat there, with her head down and nodded," Blaine shakes his head at the memory. "I moved in with my Aunt, as you know, and I felt like dying. All I wanted to do was die. If my parents didn't love me, why should I?"

Kurt bites his lip, shutting his eyes.

"Then the Sadie Hawkins incident happened, and while I was lying in that bed, all I wanted to do was take too much of those pain pills, just let it end right there. Things for so much worse after that. I almost did it when I came home. I almost took that entire bottle of pain pills, but my Aunt walked in, and I only took two, because she was watching. I moved to Dalton and I met you, and that was the best I have ever felt, but I still felt bad. It's the only way I could describe it. When I moved to Dalton, I started gelling my hair because it was something I could change and even though I wanted to change everything, my feeling, my looks, I couldn't, but the gel gave me a sense of control, you know?" Kurt nodded slowly along with his husband, nuzzling his cheek against his forearm, occasionally pressing kisses to the skin.

"The only thing that kept me through things was when I met you, because I wanted a future with you. I thought things would get better when we moved. I would have you, a career, my parents would be gone forever, I could live my life the way I wanted. I struggled with getting up in the morning, but the thought of New York eventually got me up. The thought of you and New York got me up. Then we got here," He pauses, shaking his head. "And it didn't get better. It just worse. I just felt horrible because NYADA was bad. Ms. July tore me down every day. Everyone at that school tore me down, then I got kicked out, because I wasn't good enough and I realized, even if I put everything into it, I never would be good enough. When I cheated, I wasn't good enough, I was stupid, when my parents kicked me out, I wasn't good enough. When I got beat up, I wasn't good enough. I never would be," He scoffs.

"I got everything I could ever want. I got a roll on Broadway playing Tony, even with NYADA, I was in New York. I was away from my parents. We were away from homophobes, and I got you. I have you, Kurt, and you are everything to me. You're the only thing I clung to when they fired me from Tony, because 'I didn't have good energy anymore'," Blaine shakes his head, tears now pouring down his cheeks. "I didn't have any energy. None. Getting out of bed got hard again, and all I could think about was taking those pills and slitting my wrists. You want to know why we haven't had sex in a month. I've been cutting my hips. You don't see them anymore unless you're staring, but that's why I haven't let you touch me. They blend in, but if you felt them, I don't know what I would do, Kurt.

"I would die of embarrassment, because while you're this strong, talented, beautiful, amazing person, I'm not, and to have you look at me with disgust because of it, I just couldn't handle it," Kurt shakes his head, kissing his arm to prove that would never happen. Ever. "I have everything I've ever dreamed of and I'm still not happy. I have you, New York, an amazing job with Warbler Records, I have everything I've ever wanted and I still can't get out of bed in the morning and I don't know why. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why I'm so fucked up, Kurt,"

"You're not fucked up," Kurt says softly, his tears hitting Blaine's arms. Blaine scoffs, shaking his head. Kurt turns around, so his back is to Blaine's knee that was encasing Kurt into a box. "You're not. It's okay to feel bad. You don't need a reason to be depressed, Blaine," Kurt assures him, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, wiping away his tears. "I love you no matter what. You are worth so much, Blaine. You're priceless, Baby. You're sex on a stick and you sing like a dream," He smiles at his words, and Blaine playfully rolls his eyes. "You are though. You're everything I've ever wanted to be," He pauses, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, B."

"What? For what?" Blaine scrunches his brows together.

"I knew something was wrong. I watched you falling, but I never thought to pick you up. I kept telling myself you were okay. I knew you were cutting. I saw the razor in the bathroom drawer, but I didn't say anything, because I thought you would come to me. Then, it disappeared, so I thought you were okay, but you weren't, and as your husband, I should have said something. I'm so sorry, Baby," Kurt cries, shaking his head.

"Stop it. This is not your fault. I'm the one who did this to myself. I should have told you, but I didn't," Blaine says, tears still falling freely. Kurt shakes his head again, hiding his face into Blaine's t-shirt. Blaine instinctively wraps his arms around his husband, holding him close to himself, pecking his head every once and while, and muttering apologizes.  "I love you, Kurt. So goddamn much."

"I love you too," Kurt sobs, no longer giving a shit who would hear them. "We're going to get you help," He says, pulling back, so their still close, but so he can look at him in the face. "Okay? We'll get you a therapist, medication, and anything else you'll need, because I want you to be happy. I want to see you be truly happy again, okay?"

Blaine nods, hiccupping on a sob.

"Thank you," He whispers, it coming out more as a croak. Kurt cups his cheeks, pulling him in for a soft kiss, before going back to hugging him.

"I'm gonna help you. We'll get through this, together. I promise. I won't let you fall again."

“Okay,” Blaine whispers, gripping onto his husband like it was the only thing that mattered. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> SUICIDE HOTLINE: 1-800-273-8255
> 
> Please, I beg, if you have thoughts, call someone, talk to someone, because, YOU. MATTER.


End file.
